


This I Swear

by jammeke



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammeke/pseuds/jammeke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana would do anything to protect her loved ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This I Swear

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on KMM30: 
> 
> _Morgana is extremely protective toward her younger brother._

"You have magic!"

He froze, hand stretched out in front of him, fingers still pointing at the figure of smoke that was quickly dissolving into thin air. Both of them remained motionless for a while, caught in this moment of a revelation too big to comprehend. Suddenly, those fingers balled into a fist, and Merlin turned around, eyes blazing. "I was born with it!"

Her gaze darted from his lifted chin to his bright golden eyes—and finally to his trembling legs when she could bear the sight no longer. "Impossible."

"No, not impossible." He took a step towards her, the last traces of gold fading from his widened eyes. "You know it's not."

She backed away instinctively, even though part of her wanted to lunge at him and ask him what possessed him to make such presumptions, to accuse her of knowing—of being involved with—

"How would I now?" she challenged him, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

His voice softened. For a moment, she didn't think he would speak, but then his mouth opened, and— "Because you're like me."

"I'm not." Spoken immediately, without hesitation. 

He continued to gaze at her, the slight tilt of his head and the knowing expression on his face infuriating her more with every passing moment. "I came to you! I asked you—and you said—"

"Morgana—"

"No." She was in his face all of a sudden, frustration, fear, and anger spilling out of her. "You have magic. You never told me. Not even when I—why wouldn't you—does Arthur know?"

He jerked backward as if he'd been slapped. "What?"

"Does Arthur know?" she repeated, focusing on the thought that had leapt into her mind the very moment he'd told her. Oh, there were other things to be thought and felt, certainly, but her head was strangely clear all of a sudden. He hadn't confided in her—had kept his magic secret even after she'd reached out to him—and she could only think of one explanation for his secrecy; only one reason why he would not trust his friends enough to—

Unless he did not trust her at all?

But no, he did trust her, surely. She'd helped him save his village. She'd found her way into his small chamber many's the time, troubling nightmares heavy on her mind, Gaius's vials no longer sufficient to keep her from thinking—from _seeing_. She'd opened up to him in a way she'd only ever opened up to two other people in her life—Arthur and Gwen—and if Merlin was thinking of harming either one of them, she would—oh, she would—

"He doesn't."

She let out a slow breath, fighting the urge to close her eyes as she studied him with as much detachment as she could manage. She no longer believed herself to be capable of all she wished to do, but she could still do this; she was strong enough to do this one thing; strong enough to keep her loved ones safe. "You have one day to leave the citadel, Merlin. Enough time to pack your things and say your goodbyes. If anything happens before that, I'll—I'll know where to find you."

"Morgana—"

"Don't touch me!" She took a small step backward, meeting his startled gaze evenly, feeling more confident than she had in months. She might have . . . certain abilities, and she might not be in full control of them, or even understand them, but she would never, _ever_ use her powers to hurt those she loved most—she had that over this man at least, and she'd be damned if she was going to let him come near her loved ones—not without knowing his intentions; not in the knowledge he hadn't said a thing, not once, which could only mean—

"I would never harm Arthur. I wouldn't. Morgana, please."

"Why," she said slowly, emphatically, "would I trust you?"

Apparently, he was not afraid to close his eyes in _her_ presence, and she stared at his eyelids, wondering at the power concealed behind them. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Morgana, I am, but you, more than anyone, should be able understand why I couldn't just—you're the King's ward, Morgana. What if you'd told him?"

That stung. "You think I would have?" 

"You think I would harm Arthur?" he countered.

She studied his face, looking for traces of untruthfulness. "You clean his chamber pot."

He let out a nervous chuckle. "What?"

She didn't laugh. "Why are you here, Merlin?" 

His expression grew solemn once more. "To protect Arthur."

"Why?"

"Because—" he trailed off, eyes fixed on something behind her now, if anything at all. "Because I think . . . because I think things will be better. When he's King." He swallowed. "He's a good man. He'll be a good King."

She wanted to believe him; she believed these things too. But— "You polish his armour. You mend his clothes. You sacrifice so much every day, just by being here." She would know. "I need more than that, Merlin. I need more."

He threw up his hands, turned anguished eyes on her. "That's all I've got, Morgana."

She shook her head. "I don't believe that. No one would risk so much. Not even to see Arthur rise to the throne."

"You were willing to kill Uther."

Choosing to ignore that remark, she stabbed a finger in his direction. "Tell me why. If you can't convince me, so help me, I will go to Uther this afternoon, and tell him—" Could she? "And tell him—"

"I love him."

"—you're a—you're—what?" 

He turned his back on her, shoulders trembling slightly. "I love him, Morgana. I could never harm him."

Unable to make sense of the many thoughts running through her mind all of a sudden, she latched onto the question she had opened the conversation with. "But he doesn't know. You never told him."

"I don't want to make him choose." His voice was heavy with . . . regret? Pain? "He shouldn't have to choose between me and his father. I won't make him. I won't put him in that position."

That . . . that made sense, in a stupidly loyal sort of way, and relief stood on the edge of her mind, ready to dive in and make her thoughts overflow with it, but there was something in the way of acceptance and gratitude still, something she herself had been struggling with for a while now. "He deserves to know." 

"Yes. He does."

They were agreed on that at least.

"So why haven't you told him about your gift?" he asked. 

She bit her lip, the question and the answer she'd give hurting far more than she was prepared to admit. "I—I couldn't. I can't."

She looked up into his eyes, expecting smugness, satisfaction, or disdain, perhaps, and was surprised to find something warm lurking there instead. "I know."

Her shoulders sagged, her eyes slid closed. "I want to tell him. So badly. But Merlin, what if he—what if he's not—"

"Morgana, I know." His voice sounded closer now. She opened her eyes to find him standing nearby, understanding and grief shaping his expression into a kind one; one that strengthened her despite—or perhaps because of—all the vulnerability it held. 

"I'm sorry I doubted you," she said, looking away, unable to face him all of a sudden. "It's just that . . . these powers? They frighten me. They can cause so much harm. I don't want to see him hurt, Merlin. I may tease him and hate him a little sometimes—most of the time—but I want him to live, Merlin, to be the King he's meant to be."

She couldn't see his face, but she sensed he was nodding. "It's all right. I understand." He was silent for a while. These powers, Morgana? You're right that they can cause a lot of damage. They can be dangerous and terrible and overwhelming. But . . . Morgana, they can be used for good as well."

She nodded jerkily. "I know. It's just that. Things happen sometimes."

"Things used to happen around me all the time." She looked up at him, embarrassingly desperate for reassurance, for him to tell her there was nothing wrong with her—that she wasn't a monster. She'd been afraid for so, so long now. "But with guidance," he continued, "you can make them . . . not happen." He shrugged. "I'm stronger now, I think. More in control. I can make things happen. If I want them to."

She nodded again, wanting him to go on. “How?”

“Morgana, I think . . . we have a lot to talk about.” he sent her a careful smile; his face younger now that all traces of worry and anguish had left it. “And we will talk about it.”

“You can be certain of that,” she told him, a small smirk fighting its way onto her lips.

His smile grew more genuine. “But . . . there’s an impatient prat waiting for me back in Camelot, not to mention a grumpy old physician. I have to head back.”

She sighed. Gwen would undoubtedly be wondering where she was, too. “The call of duty. Merlin?” 

He looked at her expectantly. 

“Be careful. And. Good luck. With the whole,” she waved her hand, “protecting Arthur road you’re on. If you ever need help . . .” she trailed off.

“I’ll know where to find you,” he promised her.

“Oh, and Merlin,” she called at his retreating back. 

He came to a halt, and tilted his head to the side. The gesture didn't aggravate her now. 

“Tell him.”

He whirled around. “Morgana, I just told you—”

“Not that.” She sent him a knowing smile. “The other thing.”

“The other—oh.” Realisation dawned on his face, and he ducked his head. “I . . . I’ll think about it.”

“See that you do.” She watched him leave, smile more genuine and carefree than it had been in months. Oh, she’d keep an eye on the man, just to be sure, but . . . she was fairly confident once more that he wouldn’t hurt Arthur—that he couldn’t even if he tried. 

Besides that welcome realisation, she had a feeling she hadn’t just learnt something about Merlin today: She’d learnt something about herself as well.

And with Merlin’s help, she believed she would learn a great deal more than she already had.


End file.
